


i got soul, i'm so wasted

by therumjournals



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M, Original Character(s), Pinto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-25
Updated: 2011-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-17 20:37:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therumjournals/pseuds/therumjournals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Why do gay guys dance with straight girls at gay clubs?  It’s one of life’s mysteries.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i could use another round, so i could really get on down

Zach took a long sip of his gin and tonic and stared out over the club floor. He’d spent the last four drinks making eyes at the skinniest boys in the tightest jeans and the heaviest eyeliner, with no luck whatsoever. Now, halfway through the fifth, he was almost drunk enough to give up on sex, and just about ready to dance.

He surveyed the dance floor, looking for an approach, his eyes roaming over groups of boys and the occasional girl. It was a gay club, after all, and some guys just couldn’t go out without that added sense of security that a straight girl brings. Zach rolled his eyes a little at the thought. _He_ didn’t need anyone to tell him he looked good – he could look in the mirror and see that for himself. And he’d always thought it was kind of jerky, the way those guys would ditch their hags the moment they spotted a potential hook-up. Plus, it wasn’t like he needed some girl to get him out on the dance floor.

Zach glanced at the bar, where he’d been leaning in a carefully calculated manner for the past hour. Okay, fine, maybe he _did_ need a girl to get him out on the dance floor. He took a few cautious steps out onto the floor, clutching his drink to his chest. Tried to let the rhythm flow through him, bobbed his head a little, but that was about as much as he could make himself move without added motivation. God, why wasn’t anyone bumping into him or something, he just needed some kind of excuse – there. She was practically dancing by herself, the guy she’d come with turned almost all the way around to grind against some muscular dude who was yelling in his ear. Zach found himself drawn to her – to the way the light shone on her hair, the way her white shirt, unbuttoned to just this side of slutty, practically glowed in the darkness of the club. To her smile, which widened a little as she caught a glimpse of her friend sliding his arm around to grope the other guy’s ass. She watched for a few seconds as she danced, then tore her eyes away to check out the rest of the crowd. Zach couldn’t blame her – there were a _lot_ of hot guys in here tonight, nice to look at even if there was no chance of anything more – and he should know, he thought with a grimace. Finally, she turned her gaze on Zach and caught him looking. She paused, blushed, and glanced away, still dancing. Zach admired the way she moved, loose, not jerky, feet and hips and arms coordinated, sexy without trying too hard. He took another step forward, close enough to touch, and she looked at him again. It was too loud to talk, but he wanted to keep her there, to keep her eyes on him – her eyes flicked down to his gin and tonic. He smiled shyly and held it out to her.

She bit her lip and grinned at him as she took it. He could see what she was thinking – this was a bad idea, taking a drink from a stranger in a club, but she felt reckless under Zach’s flattering stare. Zach took another step closer, set his hands on her hips as she took a sip, leaned down to say something in her ear.

“You look amazing.”

He could practically feel the heat rise to her cheeks. She took another sip and offered the drink back to him. He took it from her hand, set it on the floor, then stood and pressed closer to her until their bodies were aligned. She slid a hand around his neck as the song changed, a new beat pulsing through the speakers and pounding in Zach’s chest. His hands were loose on her waist, sliding up her sides and back and down over the curve of her ass as he let the movement of her hips guide him. “You’re so fucking hot,” he told her again, and he heard her surprised laugh in his ear. He took a step back, holding her hand, giving her a spin. Girls loved that, and she was no exception, laughing again, not a coquettish, flirty laugh, but genuine enjoyment, genuine appreciation. Zach knew she couldn’t keep her eyes off of him, and he was loving it just as much as she was, the rest of the club blurring around them. He pulled her close again, a full on grind for a minute, and he thanked god he was drunk. Wouldn’t want to be getting hard and giving her the wrong impression, after all. His dick was a sucker for pulsing beats and a warm body grinding up against it, but despite several optimistic attempts on Zach’s part, it consistently refused to appreciate the beauty of the female form upon closer examination.

Apparently, his dance partner hadn’t forgotten where she was, either, because she turned them a little and gestured toward the side of the dance floor at her friend.

“Hey,” she said in his ear, just loud enough to be heard over the music. “That’s my friend over there!”

He looked over again to where she was pointing and gave the guy a more thorough examination. He was dancing alone now, sipping a drink, squinting across the club and trying not to look too desperate. Brown hair, shorter than Zach usually liked – he couldn’t tell from this distance if it was styled – a tan jacket over a white dress shirt, loose jeans. The shoes were okay, and Zach thought he was probably cute enough, though he couldn’t get a good look at his eyes - but the guy really wasn’t his type. Zach shrugged. “He’s okay,” he shouted.

“Just okay?”

“Yeah.” Zach spun her again and steered her toward a group of guys that _were_ his type, a mass of spiky hair and faux hawks, abstract t-shirts tight enough to show off their nipple rings. A few of them he’d seen around, and he was pretty sure he’d slept with one of them. They nodded at him and shifted to make room in their little circle.

“What’s your name?” one of them yelled to his new friend.

“Becky,” she yelled back.

“You’re pretty,” he said, and the others nodded in agreement.

Zach wrapped an arm around her chest and leaned down to kiss her on the temple. “Isn’t she? Gorgeous,” he added with a smile, taking her hands and tangling their fingers together, raising them in the air as a Lady Gaga remix thumped through the speakers. Zach was feeling a little woozy, and he let himself lean a little, his chest against Becky’s back as they danced. She was getting antsy though, he could tell, glancing around trying to keep an eye on her friend, wherever he’d gone. Finally, she turned around.

“I gotta go,” she shouted. “Sorry.”

Zach shrugged, still dancing.

“It’s been fun,” she said with a glowing smile, and she slipped away across the dance floor.

**

“Real nice, Bex,” Chris grumbled when she found him moping in the stairwell a few minutes later. “Way to be a wingman.”

“What are you talking about? What happened to that guy you were playing grab-ass with?”

“He ditched me like five seconds after you left,” Chris said morosely.

“Man. That sucks. Why didn’t you come over?!”

“Um, I didn’t want to interrupt? I can’t fucking believe you get more action at a gay club than I do.”

“Yeah, well, I prefer my ‘action’ with a little more tongue in the mouth.”

“What, you didn’t make out with him?”

“Are you kidding me? No. Did you _see_ that guy? He was pretty much as gay as they come.”

“Oh.” Chris furrowed his brow. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Why was he dancing with you?”

“Fuck if I know! Why _do_ gay guys dance with straight girls at gay clubs? I have no idea. It’s one of life’s mysteries. I don’t suppose you have any insight?”

“God, no. I wouldn’t do it. Especially not if I looked like that guy!”

“Gee, thanks.”

“What was his name?”

“Oh. Uh. Shit, I didn’t even ask. I was calling him Dylan in my head. Do you think he looked like a Dylan?”

“No.”

“No? Not a Dylan?”

“Definitely not. Let’s go take another look,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her back out into the club. Becky scanned the floor but didn’t see Dylan anywhere. Finally, she spotted him sitting on the floor against the wall, his head lolling backwards and his eyes closed. Apparently he’d been a little drunker than she’d thought.

“He’s over there.”

“Come on!”

“What? No! Chris-“ She shook her head and gave in as Chris dragged them over. He stopped a few feet away and nudged her.

“Go see if he’s okay.”

“What?!”

“He looks totally trashed. Go make sure he’s okay. And get his name.”

“What – oh my god, Chris, this is ridiculous,” but she went anyway, kneeling down and shaking Dylan’s shoulder. “Hey! You okay?”

Zach took a startled breath and looked up at her, smiling as her face appeared through the haze. “Hey, lady,” he said.

“Hi. Miss me?” He smiled dizzily back at her without answering. “So what’s your name, anyway?”

“Uh…it’s Zhach,” he slurred.

“Jack?”

“Zzzzach.”

“Oh. Okay.” She gestured for Chris to join them, and he knelt down beside them. “His name’s Zach.”

“He looks like a Zach,” Chris said, looking at him. Zach’s head was back against the wall and his eyes were closed again. He appeared to be breathing evenly, and he wasn’t frothing at the mouth or anything, so he was probably fine. Chris reached into the pocked of Zach’s jeans.

“Chris! What the hell are you doing?”

“Relax.” Chris pulled out Zach’s phone and dialed his number. He pulled his own phone out of his jacket, ended the call, and hit Save. He slid the phone back into Zach’s pocket, winked at Becky, and stood to leave.

Outside, he pulled Becky close, pressing their cheeks together as he stretched an arm out, aiming his camera phone at their faces. He took the picture and looked at the phone. Half of Becky’s face was cut off, but he looked like he was about to give the camera the night of its life, so it was a keeper. He pulled up Zach’s number, attached the picture, typed a few words, and hit Send.

“Come on, Bex,” he said. “Let’s go do shots in my apartment.”

**

Zach woke up on his own couch with a raging headache and a nagging suspicion that yet another Saturday night had passed with no attractive strangers in his apartment to show for it. He groaned and sat up, with a vague thought of heading for the bedroom, but everything swirled around him and he lay back down again. He was fully clothed except for one shoe – he cracked an eye open – okay, there it was on the floor, which meant this weekend was already better than last. He thought back to the night before, trying to remember. Gin and tonics, frustration, dancing – god, yes, the dancing, he remembered with a smile. That girl, that fucking sexy angel, sent down from heaven to press her hips up against him. He felt a spark of pleasure at the memory and glanced down at his crotch. Yeah, nothing. Still, it had left an impression. He didn’t remember much after the dancing, and he hoped he hadn’t barfed on her or anything. Hell, for all he knew, they’d gone out for pizza and become best friends. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to check for missed calls and to see if maybe he’d gotten that hot bartender’s phone number. An envelope blinked on the screen. He opened the message and peered at the image that came up. Bright blue eyes smirked at him, plump lips teased above a strong, lightly stubbled jaw. Damn. Zach’s stomach did a little flip and he glanced down at his crotch. Yep, there we go. His head pounded again as he strained to remember if he’d done anything that would lead to this ridiculously attractive man sending Zach a picture of himself. He had nothing. The mind boggled. Zach scrolled down to see the message, praying that it hadn’t been a wrong number.

 _Becky enjoyed dancing with you. I’d enjoy doing more. Call me. –Chris_

Becky? He scrolled up again. There she was! The girl from the night before! Well, half of her anyway, but it was enough to see that she was even cuter, and significantly less blurry, than he recalled. _This_ hottie was her friend? Shit. Zach glanced at the clock and did a double-take. 4:30 in the afternoon, how had that happened? He rubbed a hand over his face and stood up, made his way into the kitchen and leaned heavily on the counter as he downed a large glass of water. He had to get over this hangover fast so he could give his new BFF Becky and her hot friend Chris a call. It was ‘80s night at Thrust, after all, and he was still in the mood to dance.


	2. you wanna go to a party tonight?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Becky meet up with Zach for ‘80s night.

"How does this look?"

"Lose the jacket. Wear a t-shirt."

"Why?"

"He likes t-shirts."

"How do you know that? You danced with him for like ten minutes! Did you even talk to him?"

"It was more than ten minutes. Just trust me. No, not a white one."

Chris put down the white v-neck he'd picked up and rolled his eyes. "Is _this_ one okay?" he asked, picking up a dark gray t-shirt with some kind of abstract lightning strike across the lower left.

"Oh my god, that's perfect. Where did you get that? How have I not seen this before?!”

"Um...I got it from that trendy hipster store where John works, like, two days ago. Does that answer all of your questions?" He handed her the rum and coke she'd set down on his bureau.

She took a long swig. "Put it on." She watched as Chris pulled the t-shirt on over his head and checked himself out in the mirror. "What shoes are you going to wear? No, you know what, don't even answer. Wear these," she said, tossing a pair of shoes to him.

"You're very bossy."

"At a certain point, I'm going to be completely removed from your love life. I'm just trying to leave my mark where I can."

"Awww, Bex, I would never do that to you," Chris said, putting his arm around her and giving her a kiss on the head.

"You're so full of shit."

"Okay," Chris said, pulling on the shoes. "Am I ready?"

Becky shook her head. "We have to do something about the hair."

*

She'd pulled every single thing out of Chris's medicine cabinet and was looking at the cluttered counter in dismay. "Chris!" she yelled toward the bedroom. "What kind of a gay man are you? This is just embarrassing!"

"What?" Chris asked, leaning into the bathroom. Becky eyed the flourescent pink drink he was holding. Okay, so he was definitely gay. But still...

"No hair product? Seriously?"

"Oh. Um..." Chris opened the lower cabinet and reached into the back. "Here."

"How old is this?"

"Like...three years?"

"Ew." Becky looked around frantically. "Do we have time to go shopping?"

Chris checked his watch. "No. It's 10:30 already. Come on, come on, let's _go_!"

Becky grinned. "You're so adorable when you're getting ready for a first hook-up."

"Funny."

"Here." She pulled him toward the mirror and shoved a scoop of hair wax into his palm. "Do something with that."

*

"My hair's all poky," Chris said, bumping the palm of his hand against his new spikes.

"Stop touching it," Becky hissed, pulling him forward in line. "Come on, we're almost in. You're paying my cover, by the way."

"Grr." Chris pulled his wallet out of his pocket to hand his ID to the bouncer. "Oh god. I just got really nervous. What if he isn’t into me?”

“Chris, he called you, like, twelve hours after you drunkenly texted him a picture of yourself. I think you’re good to go. Plus, it’s ‘80s night. The moment _Like a Prayer_ comes on, your tongue will be down his throat, I guarantee it.”

“We should have had more to drink before we left."

"No way. The last thing we need is you getting all sloppy."

"Shut up, I saw you take another shot before we left."

"That’s because I had to kill the taste of that bubble gum vodka shit that you made me drink,” she muttered as they entered the club. "Now come on, let's find our boy."

*

Becky saw him first, standing at the bar, looking out over the crowd. Her stomach did a little flip. He was even hotter than she remembered. He caught her eye, stood up a little straighter, and smiled. Her stomach flipped harder, and she squeezed Chris's wrist. "Oh my god. There he is."

"Holy fuck."

"I know."

She pulled Chris through the crowd towards the bar. Zach turned away for a second as they got close, and turned back holding two appletinis. Oh my god, Becky thought as she took the drink. Could this guy be any more perfect?

He could, apparently, because next he was wrapping a palm around the back of her head and leaning down to give her a peck on the lips. "Hey, cutie," he murmured.

She was blushing too hard to answer, so she took a sip of her drink and stepped aside so he could hand Chris the other appletini. She watched them check each other out. Zach looked impressed. Becky smiled into her drink.

Chris took the glass from Zach and licked his lips. "Do I get one of those, too?" he asked, nodding toward Becky.

Zach smiled and stepped closer, put a hand on Chris's hip, and leaned in to give him a chaste kiss on the corner of his lips. Becky rolled her eyes. She'd been hoping to get through at least one drink before they started going at it. But Zach didn’t linger just yet, pulling away to smile at them both. "You guys want to dance?"

They stepped onto the dance floor just as _Like a Prayer_ started blasting through the speakers. Chris winked at her and slid an arm around Zach’s waist. Ah, fuck.

*

Becky tried to stick it out for as long as she could, she really did. And she’d never had a problem dancing on her own, but dancing on her own while Chris and Zach were trying to climb into each others' clothes right next to her was getting a little annoying. Not that it wasn't smoking hot, because it was. Just, she preferred to watch from afar, and preferably with a drink nearby. As soon as Zach moved his hand, she reached into Chris's back pocket, pulled a twenty from his wallet, and headed for the bar.

*

Becky leaned on the bar, prepared to watch the bartender flirt for a while before he got to her. She glanced around in the meantime, wondering if there was any chance of repeating the previous night's success and finding another hot, resigned gay guy to dance with her for the rest of the night.

"What can I get you?" the bartender yelled over the music.

"Rum and coke?" she yelled back.

He nodded, made the drink, and slid it across the bar to her. "It's on that guy," he said, gesturing toward someone at the end of the bar. She stood on tiptoe to see down the bar, and some guy raised his glass and smiled at her through the strobing lights. This was an intriguing development. She grabbed her drink and headed over.

"Thanks," she said, raising her drink. He lifted his - whiskey on the rocks or something, it looked like - and they tapped their glasses together.

"No problem."

Hello. Suddenly, Becky was a lot more interested. What was that, Australian or something? She smiled at him. "Why aren't you dancing? Didn't you hear that it's '80s night?"

"Yeaaah," he said, drawing it out. He furrowed his brows. "This isn't really my kind of club."

Oh really. "Oh? So...what are you doing here?"

He rolled his eyes. "Coupla my mates wanted to check it out. I don't think they read the fine print," he said with a wink.

"Ah." Her eyes flicked down to the open collar of his black button up. This guy was getting hotter by the second. Bet he'd gotten a lot of free drinks tonight.

"Yeah. The free drinks aren't hurting though," he said, smiling. Oh my god. Dimples. Becky took a long sip of her drink and tried to catch her breath.

"So, what's your name?" she asked, after she’d set her empty glass on the bar. She probably shouldn't have finished that so fast, but if ever there was a time for liquid courage, this was it.

"What?" he yelled. _Come on, Eileen_ was pounding through the speakers now. If the volume was anything to go by, the DJ _really_ liked this song.

"What's your name?" she yelled, louder.

He leaned forward and shouted something in her ear that sounded like "Col."

She wrinkled her nose. "WHAT?"

He yelled it again. "COL?" she yelled back.

He rolled his eyes in resigned exasperation and stepped closer. "KARRRRUL" he said, exaggerating the "R".

"OH, KAHHHL," she said, flashing him a flirty smile. He shook his head, but he was smiling, too. Also, his hand was on her hip, and she wasn't sure when that had happened, but she never wanted to move, ever.

She leaned into him a little, and he slid his hand around to her back.

"Would you like to dance?"

*

Becky was in love with Karl. Okay, _maybe_ it was more like lust, but really, it wasn't like she just wanted to sleep with him. She also wanted to talk to him, for hours and hours. Well, mostly so she could listen to that accent for hours and hours and _then_ sleep with him, but yeah, she was pretty sure it was love. They'd been on the dance floor for a while, and though he had nothing on Zach when it came to dance moves, he had a bit of rhythm, and he was holding her close and murmuring humorous observations in her ear and he smelled _amazing_. At some point she realized that she hadn't spared a thought for Chris in quite a while. Oh well. She was sure he was doing just fine.

Suddenly she felt another hand on her side and a broad chest pressing against her back, hips moving easily to the beat of _Billie Jean_. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled.

"Hey gorgeous," Zach said. Becky had a sudden thought and looked wildly around for Chris.

"Don't worry," Zach yelled, "he's just getting us drinks. He hasn't ditched me yet!"

Becky raised an eyebrow. " _That's_ not what I'm worried about!"

Zach grinned. "And I have no intention of ditching him," he said reassuringly.

She nodded her approval, and Zach glanced across at Karl.

"Who's this?" Zach asked, his voice teasing. He reached over her shoulder to touch Karl's hair.

Becky slapped his hand away playfully. "Hands off!" She glanced back at him. "He's _straight_ ," she said in a mock whisper.

Zach raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Lucky girl," he murmured.

Chris appeared by their sides. He handed Zach a drink and shrugged apologetically at Becky. She shrugged back and smiled as Zach turned away from her, wrapped an arm around Chris's shoulders, and pulled him in for a deep, pornographic kiss. She swallowed and turned back to Karl, shaking her head. He grinned at her, and she immediately forgot all about hot gay guys, in favor of focusing on his sparkling hazel eyes. His lips brushed her ear. "Can I kiss you?"

"Hell yes.” Way to be coy, she thought, then she stopped thinking, because Karl was kissing her, and it was _awesome_. He still smelled fucking amazing. She may have whimpered a little when he pulled away.

"Want another drink?" he asked, reaching down to take her hand.

Yeah, she was definitely in love.

*

"BexBexBexBexBex," Chris panted, skidding to a stop in front of her. "Hi," he said to Karl, who'd stopped kissing her to look up at him. "Sorry." Karl shrugged, and Chris turned back to Becky, gripping her by the shoulders. "Zach wants me to go home with him."

"I should certainly fucking hope so!" Becky said emphatically. She was buzzed on liquor and Kiwi and Madonna, and kind of in love with the world.

"Okay, so, I'm gonna go with him, okay? Are you gonna be alright?"

"Uh, yeah." She let go of Karl reluctantly and pulled Chris a few steps away. "Give me your keys."

"What? Why?"

"Because I want to invite Karl back to your place."

"What? Hell no!"

"Chris, _come on_! He's sharing a hotel room with his friends, and you live so much closer that me! AND you don't have a roommate!"

Chris looked at Karl and bit his lip. "Bex, are you _sure_ you want to do that? Bring some random guy home?”

She gave him a look. "You're not actually serious with that question, are you?" she asked pointedly. He blushed and ran a hand over the back of his neck. "Chris. Listen to me. He's from _New Zealand_."

Chris gave her the keys.

 

* * *

 

Becky answered Chris's call on the first ring.

"Hey!" he whispered. "You're alive! That's awesome!"

"Yeah, same to you. Why are you whispering?"

"Huh? Oh, I'm in Zach's kitchen. His apartment's kind of small, I don't want to wake him up."

"You're calling me _from his apartment_? I mean, I'm impressed that you understand your obligations to me, but you really could have waited until you left."

"Yeah, that's the thing, Bex. I think I might stay here for a little while. I went out and got muffins and coffee for when he wakes up."

"Muffins? Chris, you are so gay."

"Thank you, I try."

"Are you sure he'll be cool with that? I mean, you sticking around the morning after?"

"If the way he was cuddling the hell out of me all last night is any indication, then yes, he'll be fine with it."

"Oh my god," Becky groaned. "Invite me to the wedding."

"Shut up," Chris said, but she could hear the smile in his voice. "So? What about you? I didn't expect you to answer, I had this long and detailed message all planned out."

Becky chuckled. "Karl had to leave early to meet up with his friends...sorry, his _mates_..." She glanced at the sweet note he'd left and smiled. "They're heading down to New Orleans. But they're flying out from New York in a month, so hopefully he'll give me a call before they leave." She thought about it for a second. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure he will."

"So did you have a good time? Was he any good?"

"Oh my god, Chris. He was so good. He was so fucking good."

"Jesus. How many-"

"Three times last night."

"THRICE? No way!"

"Yeah, and once this morning, because he's a gentleman like that. Oh, and one of those times was with his fingers in the back of the cab."

Chris whistled into the phone. "Wow. Usually it takes you forever to get off."

"Not if you know what you're doing, honey," she said, laughing.

“So, you owe me new sheets.”

“Fine. Worth it. Look, I've gotta go to work in a few hours. What do you want me to do with your keys?"

"Good question. Um...maybe I'll stop by the restaurant later?"

"Okay. Oooh, bring Zach! I have to thank him for ending your dry spell. You were getting a little cranky."

"Shut up."

"So what does he do, anyway?"

"He said he's an actor. He's between gigs."

"Ah. Unemployed, then."

"No," Chris said defensively.

"Whatever you say, Chris. I'm just thinking about who's going to make the money to feed the babies that you two are definitely going to have."

"Shut up!"

"Okay, okay. But seriously. You like him?"

"I don’t know...god, yeah, I think I do. He's so hot, and he's really funny, and Becky, I shit you not, there are like four Hemingway novels on his shelf."

"Oh yeah? Did you notice those when he was fucking you up against the bookshelf?" Chris was quiet. Becky laughed loudly into the phone. "Oh my god. You are such a literature slut."

"I'm so fucked."

“Yep. So many babies.”

Chris groaned.

"Did you tell him about your novel?"

"I - yeah."

"Did he make fun of you?"

"No!"

"Destinyyyyyy," she sing-songed.

"I hate you."

"I love you, Chris. Go back and wake him up with a muffin. Or, you know, your dick."

"Crude, Bex."

"See you guys at the restaurant later?"

Chris sighed. "Yeah, probably."

"Who's the best wingman ever?"

He sighed again. "You are."

"You know it. Hey Chris?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I get first dibs on your apartment when you move in with Zach?"

"BYE, Bex."

"Bye, loverboy.” She blew him a kiss into the phone, and hung up, falling back on the bed with a smile on her face.

Fucking '80s night, man. It worked every time.


	3. feel so much and feel nothing at all

“Zach, where the fuck are you?” Chris yelled, pressing the phone to his ear as he shoved his way through the crowded club. “What? What? I can’t hear you, hold on!”

Becky dragged him over to a door, and they stumbled into the stairwell to escape the noise of the club. A couple making out in the corner gave them a dirty look, but Becky ignored them, leaning against the wall as she listened to Chris’s side of the call.

“Where are you? I thought you were going to be here like an hour ago. What?! Are you serious? Fucking hell, Zach. Wait, did you say Alec? Are you fucking kidding me? You told me you didn’t even talk to him- fine, whatever. You know what, why don’t you wait until you’re actually over him to call me back. Whatever, I don’t care, you know I _am_ actually capable of having fun without you.” Becky gave him a sympathetic look as he shot a final insult at Zach and ended the call.

“He’s not coming?”

Chris shook his head angrily, jamming the phone in his pocket as he pushed out the door and back into the club. Becky put a hand on his arm and leaned close so he could hear her over the blasting techno beat. “You want to get out of here?”

“Fuck no. I want to get shit-faced and tear up the dance floor.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, Bex,” Chris said, flashing her a wicked smile. “Don’t you want to dance?”

*

The bass pounded through their veins, pulsed up through the soles of their feet. They were wrapped around each other in the middle of the dance floor, the length of their bodies pressed together, faces close, temples glistening with sweat.

Becky had a hand on the back of Chris’s neck, the other roaming over his ass as they ground against each other. Chris licked his lips and spread his palm against her lower back to pull her closer. His eyes were hooded, and she knew they were both so drunk that if they weren’t clinging to each other like this, it’s unlikely either of them would still be standing. Still, that didn’t mean she wasn’t planning to enjoy it while it lasted.

She rolled her hips and heard Chris hiss and stutter, “F-fuck,” just before she felt the telltale bulge in his jeans where he was pressed up tight against her. Heat bloomed beneath her skin and throbbed between her legs, and she hid her face in the crook of Chris’s neck as they danced. Chris’s lips brushed her hair - they were in dangerous territory now, familiar and forbidden at the same time, and flattering above it all. Her heart ached, and she clung a little tighter, tried to memorize the shift of Chris’s muscles beneath her palms.

She turned her head, letting her lips brush against Chris’s jaw. She could feel his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, could see the slight indent his teeth had left in his lower lip. His voice was rough and earnest in her ear. “Wanna get out of here?”

She managed a nod, and he slid their hands together, led her across the club, down the stairs and outside into the cool night air. They didn’t talk, didn’t dare look at each other as Chris raised his hand to hail a cab. A taxi cut across two lanes of traffic to screech to a stop in front of them. Chris pulled the door open and Becky climbed inside, sliding across the worn leather seats. Chris slammed the door shut and gave the cabbie his address. Then he reached for Becky and crushed their mouths together in a desperate kiss.

It took her a few seconds to get her bearings. She was drunk, and it had been a long time since she and Chris had kissed like this. But they found their rhythm quickly, lips moving against each other, tongues darting out for brief, illicit touches. Becky could taste the rum on Chris’s breath, could feel it rushing in her own veins. She knew it was making them reckless, making them take what they wanted from each other, and she didn’t care. Their teeth clacked together as the cab jostled over a pothole, and their only reaction was to deepen the kiss.

“Shit, Bex,” Chris groaned. His fingers dug into her hip as he tugged her closer. “Want you so bad.”

Becky smiled against his lips. “Yeah, right.”

“’m serious,” he murmured against her jaw. “Missed this.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, smile slipping away as she pressed another lingering kiss to his lips. “Me, too.”

She was working at his fly when the cab slowed to a stop outside of Chris’s apartment building, and she grumbled a protest as he removed her hand and reached across her to open the door. He thrust a stupid amount of money into the driver’s hand, and they managed to make it across the lobby with only a minimum of wobbling and cursing.

Chris didn’t even bother to switch on the lights in his apartment, just tugged Becky back to his bedroom. She fell gratefully onto the bed, rolling onto her back to look up at him.

“We should drink some water,” Chris mumbled, climbing onto the mattress beside her.

“Yeah.”

“We’re really drunk.”

“Mm-hmm,” she murmured, and pulled him down on top of her.

He went willingly, catching her mouth in a sloppy kiss before shifting back just enough to let her get to work on his jeans again. She wrestled with the button and zipper and made a triumphant sound when Chris was finally able to shove them down around his hips.

They rolled around on the bed together, kissing and grappling until Chris got his pants all the way off and Becky had slipped her shirt off over her head. Chris fumbled with her bra strap and by some stroke of luck actually managed to unfasten it. He pressed his face between her breasts and mumbled something that sounded like “motorboat.”

She yanked him up by the hair before he could start drooling on her boobs, tipped her head to let him kiss wetly at her neck and ear instead. He was stretched out over her, and she reached down to grab a handful of his ass, basking in the feel of his body covering hers. The press of his erection against her thigh would have been painful if it weren’t so hot, the way he was grinding down on her, short quick thrusts of his hips, grunted sounds of pleasure spilling from his lips, “Shit, unh, shit, feels so-“

He slid a hand up under her skirt, brushing his knuckles over the damp cotton of her panties, pressed his thumb against the fabric covering her clit. She hissed and bucked her hips, moved her hand to wrap her fingers around his cock where it strained against his boxer-briefs.

“ _Shit, yeah._ ”

She tugged at him, a few short, clumsy strokes, and was sliding her fingers beneath his waistband when she was startled by a momentary sense of responsibility. She pulled her hand away, lifted her head to catch his eye. “You sure this is okay?” she whispered.

“Shut up,” he grunted, pawing at her underwear. “Take these off.” She scrambled to comply, shedding the last vestiges of guilt with the rest of her clothes, seeking out Chris’s lips again and gasping into his mouth as he pressed two fingers into her.

He caught her lower lip between his teeth, released it to murmur against her cheek, “That feel good?”

Her answer was a quiet laugh, a nod against his temple as he slid his fingers out to rub her clit. She reached for him again, remembering to squeeze and stroke just a little harder than she thought she should. He was so fucking hard, and the feel of his length in her fist, the slickness seeping from the slit beneath her thumb, had her bucking up beneath him, wanting more.

She knew she wasn’t going to get it.

They were both panting now, sweat-damp hair falling in their eyes. They pressed their foreheads together, kissing forgotten as they focused on touching each other, seeing how close they could get to the edge before-

She whimpered as Chris gave her one last swipe with the pads of his fingertips and pulled his hand away. His sticky fingers tangled with hers on his dick, and he guided her hand, a little harder, twisting just beneath the head. She got the message and pulled her hand away, clutched at his side and arched her back. He pressed the tip of his cock against her clit and jerked himself hard. It felt good, the vibrations sending a bolt of pleasure through her, tingling in her extremities and pulsing hotly in her cunt. But Chris knew it wasn’t enough, and after a few seconds he pulled away, rolling onto his side and murmuring, “You do it.”

She didn’t hesitate, sliding a hand between her legs, fingers following a familiar pattern as she hooked an ankle over Chris’s legs to keep him close. The air between them was warm, humid, heavy with the smell of rum and sweat. Chris dropped hurried kisses against Becky’s lips, pumping at his cock until they both shook with the motion. Becky heard the hitch in his breath, and she quickened her pace, squeezed her eyes shut as a wave of sensation shuddered through her, curling her toes. Beside her, Chris rolled onto his back, a second before his body went still with his own release. Becky suppressed a twinge of disappointment and let the last throes of her climax wash through her, sweeping away any thoughts more complicated than whether she should pull the covers up before they fell asleep.

After a few minutes, Chris made the decision for her, sitting up just enough to pull his boxers back on and slide the sheet up over their waists. He curled an arm around Becky’s shoulders, and she scooted close, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he stared up at the ceiling.

“I’m gonna feel like shit tomorrow, aren’t I?” Chris asked with a short laugh.

She hummed noncommittally.

“I just…fuck. I’m so pissed at Zach, I just don’t _get it_ …” He glanced down at her. “This weekend is our two-month anniversary.”

Becky groaned into his chest. “Chris. You are so gay.”

“I’m sorry! I know, I know, I just…it’s stupid, I know. Ugh. Maybe I did something to scare him off? Maybe he sees this as a fling?”

Becky propped her head up to look at him in the moonlight. “I thought you guys had the talk.”

“We did! I thought we did, at least. I don’t know. God, I am still so drunk.”

“Go to sleep.”

“Yeah. Good plan.”

Chris tangled their legs together and tipped his head down to press a quick kiss to her lips before he passed out.

*

Becky awoke to Chris’s phone buzzing annoyingly somewhere in the vicinity of her feet. She sat up groggily and pulled the phone out of Chris’s discarded jeans.

“Well, hello,” she said, cringing at the sour sting in the back of her throat.

“Becky?”

“Uh huh.”

“It’s Zach. Do you have any idea where Chris is?”

“Um.” Becky squinted at Chris’s sleeping form beside her, then double checked to make sure they were in his room. “In his bed?”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure. I’m sitting right next to him.”

“Jesus, how passed out _are_ you two, I’ve been knocking on the door for like 30 minutes!”

Becky heard a loud knock on the door. “Oh. Sorry.” She grimaced as a throbbing pain started up in her temples. “We got really trashed last night. Hold on a sec.” She hung up the phone and rolled off the bed, struggled into a pair of Chris’s sweats and a t-shirt before she stumbled through the living room to open the door. Zach was standing in the hall with his arms crossed, scowling at her. She raised an eyebrow as she took in his grey hoodie and yoga pants.

“Wow,” she said.

“I know, I know. I never leave the house dressed like this. Don’t tell anyone,” he said, pushing past her into the apartment and heading towards Chris’s room.

“Zach, what are you doing here?” she called after him, following. “I think Chris is kinda pissed…”

“I know,” Zach said, sitting down on the bed next to Chris and giving his shoulders a light shake. “Hey, wake up, drunky.”

Chris rolled over a little, cracked an eye open, groaned and turned to bury his face in his pillow. Zach stretched himself out along the bed next to Chris, and Becky sat down across from him.

“Chris,” Zach said, poking him a little harder in the chest.

“Umf. The fuck is he doing here?”

Becky shrugged, and Zach rolled his eyes. “I’m here to tell you why I didn’t come out to the club last night.”

“Because you were fucking Alec?”

“What?!” Zach spluttered. “No! God, I knew you were already drunk last night on the phone. If by fucking Alec, you mean calling a variety of psychiatric institutions and trying to prevent him from jumping out of his fourth story window like he was threatening to, then yes, that’s exactly what I was doing.”

“What?” Chris grunted, squinting as he struggled to understand what Zach was talking about. “Oh. Fuck.”

“Yeah, oh fuck is right, douchebag. His roommate called me, freaking the fuck out, right as I was getting ready to go meet up with you. I was trying to explain this to you on the phone while you were screaming in my ear about having fun without me,” Zach said patiently.

“I wasn’t screaming,” Chris muttered.

“Fine, yelling, whatever.”

“It was loud.”

“Yes it was. In my ear.” Zach reached for Chris’s hand, meshing their fingers together. “Anyway, listen, I’m _really_ sorry, okay? Chris.” Chris met his eyes grudgingly. “I know you were really excited about going out last night. And I was really looking forward to spending our two-month anniversary together.”

Becky watched the corner of Chris’s mouth quirk up. She rolled her eyes.

Zach ran the tips of his fingers along Chris’s stubbled cheek. “I’ll make it up to you, okay?”

“Zach, I’m sorry I-“

Zach cut him off with a kiss. “Shh. Just please don’t break up with me.”

“Zach, no,” Chris answered earnestly, “I wouldn-“

Zach kissed him again, this time with tongue, parting Chris’s lips and licking deep into his mouth. “Your breath is rank.”

“Sorry.”

Zach went to kiss him again anyway, but Chris shrugged him off, turning his head to glare at Becky.

“Bex?”

“Hmm?” Becky responded nonchalantly. She’d propped herself up on an elbow to take in the view.

“Mind giving us a few minutes?”

“Ugh, really?”

“Yes, really.”

She flopped over and turned to climb off the bed. “You guys _suck_.”

*

Becky left the muffled sounds of kissing behind her and wandered into the kitchen. She opened the fridge, made a face, and closed it again. In the living room, she plopped down on the couch and turned on the TV, slumping back into the cushions as she changed the channels mindlessly. She knew that she should probably go home, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to leave.

Less than ten minutes had passed when she heard the bedroom door open and close. She looked up from the couch to see Zach ambling into the living room.

“That was quick,” she observed.

“Chris wanted to jump in the shower.”

“Yeah? Why aren’t you in there with him?”

“Um, because you’re here?”

“Oh. I appreciate that.”

“I thought you might,” Zach said, reaching the couch. She gestured for him to sit, and he did, dropping his entire 6-foot-4 frame onto her lap.

“Ooof, get off of me, you bony oaf,” she grunted, sliding her arms around his waist to keep him there.

He tipped his head back onto her shoulder. “I think, by definition, one cannot be bony _and_ an oaf. So which one is it?”

He was neither. He was long and lean and toned, and she couldn’t help but flash back to last night, the feel of Chris’s muscles beneath her hands, bunching and tightening as he’d writhed above her. Fuck, he and Zach made such a hot couple. It wasn’t fair.

She kept her thoughts to herself. “What can I say, Quinto - you defy categorization.”

He shifted a little on her lap and sighed. “Look, Bex, I wanted to apologize to you, too. For last night.”

“Okay. Why?”

“Because Chris is your friend, and you care about him. And because I know you have a tendency to get a little protective when you feel that injustices have been done against him.”

Becky nodded against Zach’s shoulder. “You mean you want to stay on my good side because you know I’ll kill you and cut you into tiny, tiny pieces if you hurt him?”

Zach squirmed uneasily. “Graphic, but yes. That, too.”

“I’ll forgive you this once.”

“Thank you. And thanks for, you know, keeping him entertained.”

“You’re welcome. Not that it took much – I basically just fed him drinks and let him grind up against me on the dance floor.”

“Ah.” An uncomfortable beat of silence passed, and Zach spoke his next words softly into the heavy air. “Should I be jealous?”

Becky hesitated. “No.”

Zach was quiet for a few seconds. “Okay.” Becky could see him staring at the ceiling, could feel him thinking. “It’s just, I know you guys have a history-“

“Zach.”

“Yeah?”

“You have nothing to worry about. Chris is crazy about you. And as you can probably tell by the absence of a boner digging into your ass right now, I don’t have a dick.”

“Maybe I’m just not your type,” Zach suggested helpfully.

Becky gave a pained laugh. “Oh, Zach. You are so, _so_ my type.”

Zach shifted so he could look her in the eye. “It really is too bad that you don’t have a dick.”

“Tell me about it. In great detail.”

Zach gave her a wicked grin. “I’d love to,” he murmured, but his stomach chose that moment to grumble loudly beneath Becky’s arm. “Shit, I’m fucking starving. Can we reschedule this little fantasy for another time if I get up and go get us muffins and coffee?”

“Oh, I suppose.”

“Great.” Zach heaved himself up off the couch. “When Chris gets out of the shower, make him drink a glass of water and take an Advil before he starts whining about his headache like a little bitch.”

Becky grinned. “Will do.”

*

Chris came out of the bedroom a few minutes after Zach left, toweling his hair off as he headed into the kitchen. He was already filling up a glass of water from the faucet when Becky relayed the message. “Hey, Chris! Drink some water and take an Advil before you start whining about your headache like a little bitch!”

Chris swallowed down half the glass and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. “Zach tell you to say that?”

“Yup.”

“He’s such an asshole,” Chris muttered under his breath, before finishing the water and shuffling into the living room to drop onto the couch beside Becky.

“Shut up, you love him.”

Chris tipped his head back. “Yeah, I think I do.”

“You do?”

“I don’t know. Yeah, probably.” He lolled his head to the side to look at her. “You okay?”

Becky raised an eyebrow at him. “ _I’m_ fine. Are you?”

Chris scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah. I’m alright. I’m good.”

“Good.” Becky watched him for a long second, could see him trying not to fidget beneath her gaze. “Chris. Don’t feel guilty.”

Avoiding eye contact, Chris took her hand, played idly with her fingers. “I don’t.”

“Promise?”

“…maybe a little?”

“Chris…”

Chris met her eyes, squeezed her hand. “I know, I shouldn’t. It’s not like I cheated on him. I mean…it’s just us.”

“Exactly. It has nothing to do with him.”

“I know. And it’s not going to happen again.”

She swallowed, fighting down a sudden ache in her chest. “Yeah.”

Chris gave her a look. “It won’t.”

She nodded slowly, wondering which one of them he was trying to convince. “Okay.”

They sat in silence. Becky was painfully aware that Chris’s hand was still on hers, his thumb rubbing absently across her knuckles. She thought maybe Chris hadn’t even noticed, but then he gave her hand one last squeeze, leaned over to brush a kiss against her temple, and let go.

Zach returned a few minutes later, juggling a paper bag from the bakery and a tray of coffees. Becky stood and helped herself to coffee and a scone while Zach snuggled onto the couch beside Chris. She glanced at them out of the corner of her eye as she picked up her purse from where she’d dropped it the night before.

“Alright, I’m out of here. You guys enjoy yourselves.”

Zach pouted at her. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah. I need to shower, and you guys need to spend all day cuddling on the couch watching crappy TV, drinking wine, and eating Chinese takeout.”

Chris raised an eyebrow and glanced at Zach. “How did she know?”

“I just know these things. Give me some credit - I _have_ celebrated two-month anniversaries before,” she added, as she reached the door.

“Come to brunch with us tomorrow,” Chris called after her.

She paused, surprised at the sudden relief that swept through her, alleviating a fear she hadn’t wanted to name. “I don’t know…”

“Yes!” Zach implored. “Mimosas! Please come!”

She bit back a smile. “Maybe. Call me tomorrow.”

The door clicked shut behind her, and she stood in the hallway for a moment, letting the corners of her mouth creep up. Brunch meant they’d make it to a restaurant by 2:00, drink mimosas for hours, then stumble to the park so Zach could pet strangers’ dogs. They’d have dinner at some hole-in-the-wall ethnic place, and Zach would drag them to a dark, trendy gay bar to drink $19 appletinis. Chris and Zach would struggle to keep their hands off of each other until a fabulous drunk guy came over to pull Becky onto the dance floor.

And how could she say no to that?


End file.
